Dying Flame
by smile1
Summary: Trory! -one parter- They were happy. Now, he overshowers her with gifts, hoping to buy happiness. But how can she be happy when they've never even had dinner together? Nothing is left but a burning candle: her hope; she is alone.


Disclaimer: I don't own the series Gilmore Girls or the original character. All I own is my imagination and the plot.

A/N: The 411 on this story? Well, I'm not sure if there's a plot involved in stories that are as short as this and I am positive that this idea has been used before, as well as in stories as in one parters. That said, I hope you are still interested in skimming this through...after I thanked _Alexia _for beta-ing this for me. :-)

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**Dying Flame**

She solemnly sat at the kitchen table, her arms resting heavily upon the dark mahogany and her sapphire eyes gleaming with defeat. Her world now lay in pieces: tainted, ruined - her world: a broken picture frame, its picture no longer perfect, fairy tale like memories and a ring of pure silver, its stone dull, flickering only when the light hit it from time to time - flickering with what once was: a life of comfort over showered with riches used to his advantage whenever he chose to. Their home (mansion) was filled from top to bottom with lavish furniture and trinkets she often found too expensive; she wasn't used to having so much. Gifts were received frequently and almost became a tradition whenever he ran late or missed one of his flights. It was an easy way out he was hoping to buy, though she didn't.

She used to accept the gifts with a smile, flattered that he thought about her even when he wasn't with her. Nowadays, she still smiled, but didn't try to hide the sadness behind it, though she never said a word about the tears she had and would shed over him; he had changed over time and time had changed his priorities. Her misery and his concern of something he couldn't quite put his finger on, were the reasons that always lay behind their feuds. Arguments quickly led to fights that would be forgotten by morning, brushed off; she knew that he would leave. He was often too busy and too unaware to see that his business trips and constant giveaways were hurting her and doing damage that would be hard to undo.

-x-

She found herself looking down at the watch she so delicately wore around her wrist, the time passing quickly as she sat at the large wooden table that they had bought with care, anticipating all the dinners that would be prepared and eaten off of it. In her mind, she had set the table times and times again, starting off with the white tablecloth she had gotten from her grandmother and finishing off with a pair of candles. She had taken cooking lessons from Sookie, wanting to be sure that nothing could go wrong when she prepared it herself, in their kitchen, though the bag of pasta still lay in one of their kitchen cabinets, untouched. She didn't want to go through all the trouble, not when she knew that only her shadow would be cast upon the wall across from the flickering candles. Instead, she ate her frozen dinners on the couch in front of the TV, pretending to be unfazed by the fact that he wasn't there. He never was.

She heard the door open and close, a soft thud the indication of a bag being dropped. Her back straightened and her pulse quickened as she became aware of a presence she had become a stranger to. His footsteps neared, the scent of his cologne reaching her before he did, smelling like some place far away - a place that wasn't here: home, though lately she had doubted their decision to buy a house together, to buy a place where only (bad) memories dwelled. Signs of his being didn't even linger in their bedroom, none of his clothes hung in their closet; he always brought half of it with him on his business trips and left the other half of it lying in the hamper, expecting her to wash them like a good wife, though he hadn't treated her like one in a while.

She looked up, finding him framed underneath the door. Her eyes took him in fully, admiring the clothes he always wore so casually, even the gray suit that now clad him, the light blue shirt underneath accentuating the eyes she never woke up to, even though they made a perfect match with her own.

''I'm sorry I'm late.''

She had expected his apology, she always did. Even when there was no dinner on the table waiting for him, he apologized; it had become a routine, a part of a vicious cycle, a part of his guilt and her pain.

''My flight got delayed,'' he added.

She nodded, though said nothing. All she did was look at him, searching for something that wasn't there anymore. He awkwardly shifted his weight from one foot to another, trying to find the level of comfort they both used to stand on in the past, only finding that it couldn't be reached anymore. He went from plan A to plan B with ease when she stood up from the table, slipping into the role he had been playing for the past few months, not caring how much he would have to bend his character to its will. His hand disappeared into his pocket, pulling out a small unwrapped box. It was of a darker shade of red. She watched him hold the box, his fingers clinging to it like it was his last piece of hope, a last way to redeem himself and ask for her forgiveness or maybe even her acceptance. His eyes swept up to hers in a sudden movement, holding out the box for her to take with a nervous hesitance. ''I got you something.''

She took it.

''I didn't have time to wrap it.''

''I'm sure you were in a hurry,'' she said while letting her eyes drop down to the small square she was holding between her fingers.

''Open it,'' he urged, letting a careful smile land on his lips.

She didn't look at him as she opened the gift he had gotten her, overwhelmed by what she saw, like she always was, and unsure of what to do next, of how to continue when he had gotten her something so predictable, but yet something she loved.

''Do you like it?''

He sounded excited. She didn't look at him; she was unable to. Instead, she looked down at the ring he had bought for her: pink stones forming a heart on a band of silver. Another crack appeared in her heart, leaving it on the edge of breaking. She closed the box with a sharp thud before handing it back to him. ''I can't take it.''

''Why not?'' He asked, laughing softly before continuing. ''Rory, it's a gift. I got it for you.''

''I don't want it,'' she explained, her eyes avoiding his as she placed the box back in his hands, forcing him to take it.

He frowned. ''I picked it out with you in mind. Don't you like it?''

''No, I love it. It's beautiful.''

''Then why don't you want it?'' His eyes stood confused as he looked at her for an answer.

''I don't need any more things. I have more than enough jewelry to last me a whole other lifetime.''

''Did you want a book instead?'' he asked, not understanding.

She shook her head, starting to become impatient. ''No, no! I don't want anything, Tris, anything but you.'' She sighed. ''You're never home anymore.''

''I'm here now, aren't I?''

She nodded. ''Yes, you are, but when was the last time we had dinner together? Spend some time together?''

''You're not being fair,'' he said, the ring he had gotten her disappearing back into his pocket. ''I have to go on those business trips. It's my job.''

''And obviously your main priority,'' she remarked, her tone somewhat harsh.

A flicker of emotion became visible in the depths of his eyes. He took a step towards her. ''You know that's not true.''

''Then why can't you just stay here?''

''We've been down this road before, Ror.''

''Explain it to me once more,'' she requested, doing her best to see it from his point of view, though she always failed to.

He sighed. ''I'm one of the best lawyers my dad's firm has, you know that. I like the work, I like to travel and I like the comfort we are able to live in because of the money the job provides me with.''

She nodded. Her eyes lowered to her bare feet. He always managed to make her feel like this: guilty. It hurt to know that he could make her doubt herself like that and give him yet another second chance, one he didn't deserve, but she couldn't refuse, either; she loved him, though he was making it hard for her to. Sometimes, she would ask herself what she was still doing with him. What was she still doing alone in such a big house because that was what she was, alone. ''I just want you to be here when I get home from work; I miss you. Don't you miss me? Don't you miss the way we used to be when you still had time for me?''

Tristan's face fell at the sadness in her voice. He took another step in her direction so they were now standing face to face. ''Of course I miss you.''

''Then what, you don't care anymore? You figure that...''

''Stop it,'' he sharply said. ''You know I care, I wouldn't have married you if I didn't care, if I didn't love you. Yes, I am busy with work, but you knew what you were getting into when you decided to say yes to my proposal, one I don't regret, but if you...''

''I don't,'' she said, stopping him before he could finish his sentence. ''I just...I feel lonely.'' She bit her lip and looked up at him. ''I don't need you to be around 24/7, but I do need you.''

His features softened, losing their edge of frustration as he reached for her face, gently wiping a strand of hair to the side. ''Okay.'' He let his hand fall down to her side, taking her hand in his, intimately weaving their fingers together. ''Tomorrow, I'll ask my dad for the weekend off so we can spend some time together, an entire weekend to be exact.''

''An entire weekend,'' she repeated.

He smiled. ''Yeah, I'll rent a hotel room for the weekend where we can just order room service every day so we won't have to leave our room or we can rent some videos, get some of that ice-cream you love and just hang out here, whatever you want.''

''Whatever I want?''

He leaned in and kissed her lightly on her forehead. ''Whatever you want.''

''I want you to stop working weekends.''

''Ror...''

''No, Tristan, no! I'm sick of waiting for you to come home and wondering if you are coming home at all, I mean, you hardly ever call when you're away, flights regularly get delayed...'' Abruptly, she pulled her hand from his grasp, her realization hitting her with a force that left her gasping for air in disbelief. ''You're not cheating on me, right?''

''What? Rory, are you serious?'' he asked while raising an eyebrow. ''I have been chasing you most of my teen years and now that I've finally gotten you to notice me you think that I would do something like that to you?''

''Well,'' She clasped her hands together in front of her stomach. ''I don't know, I mean, back in high school you weren't exactly known for your loyalty.'' She lowered her eyes.

''That was high school. I've grown up believe it or not and if you honestly think that I would do something like that, then you don't know me at all.''

''Maybe I don't,'' she whispered. ''Maybe the reason why you're gone so much is that I'm not enough for you anymore.'' At the thought that she might be right, her eyes glazed over, shimmering with his teary reflection as she glanced up at him.

''Rory, stop,'' he said softly while bringing his hand up to her cheek, stopping in mid-air when she moved away from him.

''One weekend isn't enough. It won't compromise for all the time that we have already lost.''

''Ror, I have clients, I can't just quit; it doesn't work like that.''

She nodded, wiping the tears away before she even got the chance to shed them. ''I hope you're happy because I'm not.''

She pushed past him, her eyes cast down and disappeared into their bedroom, slamming the door loudly. He let out another sigh while running a hand through his hair before following, knowing that he would change clothes and slip into bed in a strained silence.

-x-

That had been last night. Now, she sat there, carrying nothing but hope in her heart, for there was nothing else - nothing to look forward to; the flame had been frozen in place, like the stilled dream she still held in her mind, a piece of forgotten film that she wanted to sit back and watch though closed eyes. The images would have faded to blacks and a handful of ivories by now, decayed through the time they had let pass like leaves as they came and went with each season. It was a beautiful yet sad process, heartwrenching. It tore at her heart, shredding it to even smaller pieces with every passing second until none of it would be left in the end.

She looked over at the window, seeing that the night had already drawn its curtains over the world. Soon, it would be dark enough to turn on the lights, though she had learned to prefer candles above them; if she lit enough candles, their shadows would blend together and create an image that always seemed to be by her side. She liked to pretend that it was him, that he had changed his ways and had chosen her over his work, but he hadn't. This morning had ended up being just like any other. They had woken up, wanting to forget about the night before, though reality had come crashing down soon enough when he had put on one of his suits and had packed another bag. He had promised her not to be gone long, but his words didn't mean much to her anymore. She still had hope, though. Every night, she would light a candle and leave it out on the window-sill for him; if he would come home, even in the middle of the night, he would know that she had thought about him and that she was waiting.

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REVIEW! Please? :-) Like I said, this story wasn't that original or anything, but I came up with the first two paragraphs and that lead towards this story. I always have to write my ideas down to get them out of my head so I hope you somewhat liked it. Thanks for reading and I hope you'll be so kind as to leave me your opinion. :-)


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